Shooting Blanks
by teaisgood
Summary: Through trials and tribulations, desperate acts and forms of sadness are tangible through the cold, rough environment. Whether it's rain or sunshine, feelings of love will never diminish through the distance it travels. A oneshot collection from the soul.
1. Qualm Sonata: Verse 1

Shooting Blanks

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_Qualm Sonata: Verse 1_

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The snow fell slowly as the two gazed upon each other from the opposite sides of the sidewalk. It was cold; _bitter_, to a point where teeth started to chatter, and faces started to feel frozen in place. The skies were embraced in a blanket of grey skies, and the sun remained unshed.

The atmosphere seemed solemn. It represented and expressed voices that couldn't be heard through the chatter and sounds of anguish and despondency. The air was cold, and the tone was blue and depressive.

But that didn't matter.

The tall, lean man stood with his hands at his sides as the snow started to softly land on his head. His once nonchalant, somewhat-lazy expression was replaced with something that held far more shock. His eyes were slightly wide, but remained lowly-lit as he stared at her.

His broad shoulders seemed to clump together as the cold air started to take effect. His face started to feel a little colder, and his legs seemed as if they couldn't move. His dark, thick black coat felt as if it was growing thinner in width with the passing moments.

He just couldn't believe it.

The woman he once loved was standing right across from him. His best friend, first lover, first girlfriend, first fiancé, and his first _woman_ were within reach. There was no doubt about it.

He _knew_ for a _fact_ that girl was the one he once shared souls with; hearts with, nights, mornings, and even solemn times with.

Amu Hinamori.

Her bright pink hair seemed as lively as ever, and her honey golden eyes seemed to radiate brightly, even with the dark skies and ominous clouds over their heads. Her slender, lean body looked like a model's, and he could practically _feel_ her personality resonate from within her.

He could _feel _it.

But her eyes seemed to hold the same expression as his. They were slightly wide, mixed with happiness and affliction. She gripped her handbag with a little more force, as she tried to briefly readjust her black coat.

He knew she felt _exactly_ what he was feeling.

Love.

Regret.

Desolation.

**Heartache.**

It felt as if time had stopped for the two, as they simply stood there gazing at each other. They weren't very close, but the distance that separated them was fair. Everyone around them seemed to disappear, and they were once again invited to their own little world.

It felt nostalgic.

It almost felt as if they were going back in time, talking to each other through soul and love. His eyesight was boring directly into her soul, and vice versa; once their gazes met, they never left each other.

Time stopped.

It** froze.**

But it quickly thawed out.

It started again.

The snow that seemed frozen in place started to slowly drift down, and the people around them started to move again. Their glove-covered hands were brought back to life, and the traffic signal gave the sign to cross.

He moved his gaze downwards, staring at the ground.

She moved her gaze upward, grabbing the arm of the man next to her.

Their steps made small sounds as they moved across the crosswalk. With each step, he could feel her presence grow stronger, more _fierce_, and he could feel his grow smaller, more _scared_.

Each step brought them closer.

It brought their senses to a point where they felt _more_ alive.

As they passed each other, his heart started to beat faster.

Her heart started to slow down.

Every moment spent together started to come back. Every emotion they felt was slowly drifting back into their heart, brain, and soul.

He slowly took one step further to his destination, and she did the same.

Just as fast as they were being brought back in, they were whipped out. The feelings disappeared, the nostalgic moments dispersed, and the emotions were slowly dissolving.

As Ikuto stepped onto the opposite side of the crosswalk, he stopped. He slowly clenched his first, and bit his tongue. His mind was speeding, and his heart was slowing down. As he readjusted his violin case on his back, he turned his head slightly.

He had to look back.

He _had_ to know.

He looked back to the crowd of people opposite of his direction. Through the crowd of people, he saw her. Her back was turned to him, and her arm was stilled grasped to the other man. He closed his eyes as she kept on walking; her image growing smaller by the seconds passing.

He slowly smirked to himself, and started to walk forward.

The clouds were still dark, and the snow seemed to turn into rain.

_Forgot an umbrella, again.  
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_(A/N): Forever and still missing you, Salina._


	2. Defunct Memories

Shooting Blanks

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_Defunct Memories_

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All I see when I'm fighting is her face.

The bright, honey-glazed eyes fill my vision, and her body wraps me into her being. Her pink hair radiates like the sun, and the skies turn white when I imagine her soul. The sunset doesn't disappear into blackness, and it doesn't fill the void with red. For some reason, every time she pops up into my memories—

The poppies start to grow with their natural color.

_White_.

The last moment where we touched, and embraced each other, making nothing but empty promises still haunts me to this very moment. Around me are comrades, hiding and cowering, afraid a shell might blast and hit us.

Their eyes are covered with fear, a pandemic that seems to glow brighter with the incoming waves. To a normal man, memories cause states of nostalgia, and it causes them to go back in time where they once were happy.

Memories don't die, and they're not supposed to die.

They're what keeps a man sane, they're what keeps humanity at bay.

They're what _embodies_ soul. No.

They _are_ soul.

Past experiences help lead up to moments that can do nothing but **rely** on those experiences. Events filled with pain only give rebirth to greater strength and will. Justice acts the same way, and war is just the moment where it takes place.

They told us to rid our personalities, memories, and hopes. They told us we're soldiers, and our purpose in life is to fight and die for our country. Family and friends back home are waiting, but their faces are blank. When I close my eyes and envision _home_, I see nothing but space. However, there's a lone figure standing.

I think it's her.

I know it's her.

But confirming my hopes are useless, as my memories cause nothing but pain. Going back to them is impossible, as it will cause me to break my sanity. My old life is gone.

Ikuto Tsukiyomi is dead.

They called us youthful, strong and spirited. The old, higher-ups give us motivation and inspiration; they lie to give us that extra push to go into our final steps. Fighting for one's country and fighting in wars is not heroic. It's not honorable to win awards.

The media embellishes this, and causes misconception.

They _think _we're youthful?

Seeing countless comrades die, being ripped away from the one we love and experiencing so much desensitization that our emotions have been neurologically ripped away from our being is not youthful.

Youthfulness is _innocence._

And my innocence has been ripped away long ago.

Seeing a comrade die from a simple wound is not saddening, it's _pitiful_. The hopelessness I experience when all one can do is stand by and call the deaf doctors, asking for help is horrible. What's more horrible, is how not a single tear shed from my eyes. My heart has already been broken, and it will remain broken.

I no longer feel emotions.

Yes, my body is young. It's fit, as we exercise everyday to keep us in shape. On the fronts, my agility is fast, my reaction is impeccable, and my hearing is astounding. I'm a perfect soldier, and I can lead the younger ones into combat. I'm tall, strong, and quick. My wits can detect strategies, and my bravery can spark inspiration.

However.

I am not young. No, _we_ are not young.

We are not youthful, and we are not jovial.

Rather, "…We are old folk."

All is violent.

And all is bright.

_On the bright side, congratulations, Amu._

_Have a kid or two, and make sure they stay pure, as you have always been._


End file.
